A Draught of Love
by Mintaka
Summary: Draught takes a look at a past I've shaped that happened involving Sydney, the cult of Mullenkamp, and a young woman. {Spoilery things} In progress, Chapter 02.
1. She Remembered

A Draught of Love A Vagrant Story fanfiction By D. "Mintaka" Peal  
  
Author's Note: Only recently did I get my hands upon the glory of this game, and love every minute of it. [Aside a few jumps. :D] I was not intending to write any fiction related to it; I did not see anything I could really work on. Not until I happened to have the merging thoughts of Sydney's pretty-open past, the time he had as leader of Mullenkamp, and a song that sparked something in my brain - plus a spot of dialogue in the game from Sydney to Samantha. BTW, I have the suspicion there shall be spoiler-y things in here - I can't seem to work without them somewhere, despite its placement.  
  
Thus I took a hand at Vagrant Story. I'm pretty much pulling threads form near-nowhere and working up a past on Sydney and the cult before the events of "the Greylands incident". I might even go so far as to include the opening there. Who knows? I have vague ideas, so we're in this ride together, for better or worse on what exactly will come.  
  
I make no promises about anything other than my own little spin on things before the game. Expect some name dropping to happen - I fully intend to explore all options. Well, shall we take a journey?  
  
~-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-~  
  
Chapter 01 // She Remembered  
  
Sydney Losstarot was a man unlike any other. His name was whispered far and wide, and few could resist the lull of his voice or of what he spoke. Those who did were typically already rooted into another fate - and those of St. Iocus had a very bitter taste indeed from it.  
  
All could resist but one woman, who had only embraced the faith because she had no escape. And at this point, she was almost going to become a preacher of the faith, and she resented it. She had no faith in the hallo hopes of Iocus, and would have rather died then be where she was. And as it was, she would find her release soon enough.  
  
At the same point, not too far, a young man was coming to a crossroads in his on journey of faith, but his would be a twist of fate that would only bleed. But such bleeding was not for his faith - not the faith he held at this point.  
  
The region was a fairly quiet one, letting its residents be born, live, and pass on in relative silence and obscurity from the world. Until the arrival of a charismatic blond who would turn their world upside down, leaving it less lively and taking a few souls along for a journey no one could have seen.  
  
~-_-_-~  
  
The small town of Havensword was peaceful, tranquil, and home to only a handful of people. On that autumn day, Morrina Galestrom was walking down the lane heading from ton, her head covered in a grey shawl and her black dress flowing about her slim figure in defiance of the Iocan faith. She cared not for what they thought of her habits, she enjoyed the clothing she wore, even if she was often chastised and punished for it. She cared not by this point; she only wanted freedom, and by her studies and listening, she had learned of a far greater person to worship.  
  
Mullenkamp had indeed been interesting to learn about, discarding the bias of the priests who mentioned her name. She had been a dancer, which Morrina herself preferred to do - except that her family would not allow her to. She could dance with the best of anyone - if she had a chance to try. The Galestrom family was one of the important families of Havensword - and the surrounding areas - and it was considered improper for her to do something as "dirty" and "low" as dancing.  
  
'Name be damned,' she thought sourly. 'I want to do as I please, not be some caged bird, forced to "sing" on command - or preach. I cannot fathom how anyone could love such a restrictive faith. one that does not let the person enjoy what they desire most.' She ran a hand through her long brown hair, and readjusted her shawl, her blue-grey eyes looking at the sky above for a moment.  
  
She had also heard that a man named Sydney Losstarot led the cult that worshipped Mullenkamp. 'An interesting name,' she had thought. She could not get much on him, as no one would go on about him. Many said he was good-looking, and charismatic. Most detested him, but she daydreamed of this man who led a cult that seemed so much better then the trap she as caught in. She would never amount to much in the Iocan faith, as women never held any position of power. A lowly nun for life, devoid of love and other things. 'I do not desire such, even if it condemns me.'  
  
She was far enough from town that no one would see her and she stepped off to the side of the road under the shade of a great ash tree, and spun into a dance on the soft grass, among the falling leaves. She danced a few minutes, reveling in the freedom, and as she slowed to a pause, heard something.  
  
Something like the sound of metal hitting metal, but controlled and steady. much with the rhythm of clapping. She looked up quickly, worried she had been caught and saw someone who she did not recognize at all. "Magnificent, if I say so myself," he said, his voice smooth as he stopped clapping. "I've yet to see anyone move as fluidly as you, and I admit I've seen my share."  
  
She calmed herself a bit, trying not to panic in front of this stranger. It was hardly the word to use, considering that he was quite handsome - though his arms were encased in metal, oddly enough. 'Interesting,' she thought, not fully comprehending who was in front of her. "Greetings, sir, I am pleased that you find my dancing so worthy of praise. The residents of Havensword, however, do not."  
  
"A shame," he replied, brushing a lock of hair from his dark eyes with a metallic claw. "This region is steeped heavily in the Iocus church, is it not?"  
  
She sighed slightly, nodding. "Very much so, sadly. I wish it were not." She was being quite frank with a man she knew not, possibly risking her life saying such things about the dominant faith of the regions.  
  
"Oh? Not a believer?" It seemed an innocent enough question, and his gaze seemed to be searching her, as though looking through her, perhaps looking into her soul.  
  
She shook her head, consequences be damned for speaking her mind. "No, despite the fact my family has forced me into the church. Soon I will probably become one of the nuns and sent to some small hovel to etch out a rotting existence, devoid of everything from freedom to love."  
  
The blond stranger folded his arms across his chest, tapping one finger idly. "I see, and it would be a shame. I know the faith disdains dancing so much, and you are so talented. And lovely."  
  
She felt her cheeks flush at his words, and realized they had not even introduced each other. "Where are my manners? I am Morrina Galestrom, good sir."  
  
"Morrina. a lovely name indeed," he replied. "One of the Galestroms, the black sheep of the family, perhaps. A child who disdains the world around her and yearns for freedom." He grinned, watching her expressions play out to his words, slightly amused. "A woman taken by dancing, and probably by the most famed dancer of the world, Mullenkamp. Am I wrong?"  
  
"How? Who are you?"  
  
"Sydney Losstarot, Miss Galestrom," he said, bowing. Not too far don the road past him she could make out two horses and a man watching them. But her eyes were immediately refocused upon the man before her, who rose with a slight grin on his lips. 'Sydney? This man?' "You look surprised," he continued. "Most are when they meet me. Would I be wrong to assume that you would wish to join those of Mullenkamp?"  
  
Her heart skipped a beat, and had she not been so headstrong, she probably would have fainted then and there. 'A chance to leave this place - a chance to be a part of what I desire. A chance to be free. I would never have to see that man again, nor my family. Nothing, no one here to stop me. I would leave everything, but I have all I need. But. can I trust him? I - I have no choice, unless I wish to walk a road of bitter memories and what ifs of this day. I have nothing to lose that I would not lose eventually.'  
  
She smiled, curtseying gracefully. "You are quite right, and I accept the invitation, Mr. Losstarot."  
  
"Just Sydney," he said, raising one hand and waving off formalities. "There is little formality among the cult, so you may as well start now. I am sure some ill be surprised a woman of your status is among us, but I think you ill win their hearts over with your dancing, should you perform for us. Is there anything you wish to reclaim before we leave? I had no true intentions of remaining in Havensword itself - the cult is over one town and then some. It will be rough at times, as we're on the move currently, wandering, but I think you will manage."  
  
"Nothing. I have nothing in this wretched ton that I wish to keep other than what I have. Is there clothing or materials available for clothing should I need to change?"  
  
"You can sew?" he asked, turning and pointing towards the horses.  
  
"Aye, Sydney, I can. My mother taught me, before I was condemned to the fate in the church," she replied a smile on her face that had not been there aside the times she danced alone.  
  
Sydney nodded. "Good - you'll definitely be accepted, as we have very few gifted in those talents - t least with any skill. We have material, should you desire, and I will see you get it, Morrina. Is there anything else on your mind about this?"  
  
She thought as they walked. "No - it is the chance for true freedom and fresh air, although I expect that my family will put a search for me."  
  
"You'll be fine - no one really pays attention to us, and aside that, they cannot take you by force. They'll have the entire cult to deal with before that happens."  
  
"But you don't-"  
  
"I ill not see people taken forcefully from their decisions, and I will not have the cult threatened so," he said. "I care for every member of my following, I will not see them so ruthlessly torn from their desires. The Knights of the Cross occasionally have given members a hard time, but it should be fine. And I have something for you as well, two items. A beaded anklet I think that would suit you as a dancer, and a necklace."  
  
She felt herself blushing further, pulling her shawl don around her face more. They were nearer the horses now, as she could barely make out the thing man standing there, tending them. "Sydney, really."  
  
"Its my choice, Morrina dear. And if you wish to hide more, you may want to consider a new name." He glanced back at her, searching her face a moment and smiled. "You need not have to, but it is only a recommendation if they will send others after you."  
  
She nodded. "I take it this is another member?"  
  
"Aye," Sydney said and they stopped as the man looked her over. "Ah, dear Hardin, I'd like you to meet Miss Morrina Galestrom. She is now a member as well, and will be coming with us. Morrina, this is John Hardin, a man I know and trust implicitly."  
  
Hardin nodded, bowing. "Greetings Morrina. Most call me Hardin, rather than John, but either is acceptable." He turned to Sydney. "How shall we manage this?"  
  
"She will ride behind me, and we'll make for the camp once more. It seems Havensword would not welcome our ilk."  
  
Hardin nodded, handing over the reigns to a dark-haired stallion to Sydney. The horse looked down at Morrina idly, unconcerned. Sydney mounted with fluid grace, settling into his position and then offering her a hand up. It took a little work, but she was soon mounted behind him. "You might want to hold on, as Thiern sometimes takes ff for a moment, and the road itself has many dips."  
  
She nodded absently, carefully wrapping her arms around the man in front of her. In a matter of mere minutes she had gone from condemning her faith and dancing to suddenly seeming to have a dream realized and walking away from a life she cared not for. 'But at what price?' she wondered. 'And what more. what will he think?'  
  
~-_-_-~  
  
"What do you mean, she has not returned?"  
  
His voice was cold as steel left out at midnight in the dead of winter. He turned, focusing hazel eyes equally as cold upon the man before him, who shrunk back.  
  
"Sir, as I said, they've told me that Miss Galestrom has not returned since she left the church earlier this day. Those who saw her say they saw her head easterly along the main road through Havensword."  
  
He considered this, pushing a lock of blond hair from his eyes. "Why is she not back? Has anyone bothered searching her house, or fates be worse, gone looking for her body or traces of a struggle?"  
  
"She is not with her family, but there is no trace of either," the messenger said.  
  
"Have some men search the area better, and check the nearby villages."  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
'Well, Trevor Shirewind, you've got yourself a situation,' he thought to himself. As captain of the small lot of the Cardinal's knights stationed out in this remote area, he was the one who had to sort these things out typically. He never dreamed that it would involve the woman he loved.  
  
However, she did not love him back, and thus he had been setting more and more barricades in her path, dooming her to a fate of isolation if she would not accept his advances. So it was set son that she would be sent far away.  
  
'Out of sight, out of mind,' he thought, taking a seat. 'She refused you, and you gave her a chance to escape that which she hated, but she refused. However, she will not just run off on me, if that is what she is trying.'  
  
Trevor tapped his fingers on the desk. 'There must be a way she managed this, she would have run off much sooner if she had planned to do it alone. And all her stuff is here. Someone forced her, I know it. I will have their head.'  
  
He fingered the hilt of his sword, pondering once more why she had refused him so. 'I offered her everything she desired, and all she had to do was accept my proposal. I know she has no love of the church, but I could have saved her. I will save her.' 


	2. Cold from the Flame

Chapter 02 // Cold from the Flame  
  
Their arrival at the camp was marked with celebration and joy, as the other cult members welcomed Sydney and Hardin back as they dismounted. Morrina slid down careful, and felt herself guided gently forward by Sydney to stand before the small crowd.  
  
"My followers, may I present our newest member, who's also a gifted dancer too, I may add," he said, gesturing. In a low tone only she could hear, he added, "best introduce yourself as you wish to be known, if you've decided to take another name."  
  
She cleared her throat, her eyes surveying the crowd and quite nervous. "Greetings everyone," she said, her voice a tad shaky, "I am Cattleya Ravellier, but you may call me Cat if you like." She curtsied, smiling warmly, and many of the others greeted her back. After the small introductions, Sydney spoke up again.  
  
"We will not be stopping in Havensword - it seems we are unwelcome there by the residents, due to their distrust of our belief," Sydney said, "so we will camp here tonight and skirt the town in the morrow."  
  
With that the crowd began to break up, some going to collect firewood, others to pitch camp in the evening glow, while others unpacked items. Most people were busy, aside a few who were overseeing tasks and preparations rather than actually having a hand. "Shall I go check things over, Sydney?" Hardin asked, surveying the lot.  
  
"Aye, might be wise, we need to be ready for the possibility of inclement weather. probably a cold night to be had." Hardin nodded, heading out into the swarm of movement that was their camp, set in a clearing aside the road enough as to remain fairly inconspicuous from the idle passerby and hopefully form any roving watches that could be out there.  
  
"So what should I do?" she asked, looking at Sydney.  
  
"Come with me," he said, heading for a large rock near the cooking area. They sat down, watching the others. "I figure it would be best to show you some of the workings of the camp before I turned you loose. Besides that, I'd like to talk to you about some things."  
  
She nodded. Surveying the scene before her. It was orderly, but not regulated like the care taking of the Iocan faith. Everyone had a place, a job, and was performing it to their best. "It seems as though everyone knows what to do, and how, without a problem. But not so rigidly." She saw the women preparing food were talking away as the men setting up tents and blankets were talking of other things.  
  
Sydney nodded, gesturing to the whole of the camp. "People work according to what they know, or learn something as needed. We've learned to make do and adapt, without falling into a set system. As long as it's done reasonably, no one really cares."  
  
"I see," she said. "I hope you do not mind my choice of alias."  
  
"Not at all, I think it's lovely," he said. "And shortens well enough for the others to remember. Not everyone is as sharp as you, I or Hardin, but they are loyal, and they have open faith." He noticed her expression, and added, "that isn't a slight to them, I am just saying that easier to remember things around here are good. It is complicated enough having to live off the land many times because towns are drowning in the Iocus priesthood's lies and despise us."  
  
"Its not a large number by any means," she said, "but a fair following."  
  
"Not all my believers travel along with us, many are scattered about the areas, keeping eye on things for us and providing safe havens as needed."  
  
She nodded, watching the cooking preparations. "So what will I be doing?" she asked, glancing at him.  
  
"Well, if you can cook, we could use another, as one of our male cooks perished not long ago in an attack against our advance scouts," he said. "I'd also like you to help with entertainment."  
  
She blushed. "But-"  
  
"We have quite a few good musicians among our ranks, you can arrange with them for music if you like. There isn't much to do some nights, and they get restless without something," Sydney said. "That's not the only reason I wanted you here though, before you assume that. You're sharp-minded and possess an inner cunning we need."  
  
She studied his face in the darkening light. "I see," she said.  
  
Sydney seemed to be lost in thought a moment before he looked at her again. "Aside even that, I won't deny a person what they wish," he said, expression serious. "You have great potential, Cattleya. And worse, I could not bear to leave you there in Havensword since your heart did not desire that. I may ask things of you, but you are allowed to deny those requests."  
  
She mulled over these things, still slightly thrown off by being called another name than her own. "Aye. I wish it had been that simple before, Sydney," she said, sighing. "There is a man who did not accept when I said no. It is the reason I was in the troubles I was."  
  
"Oh?" he said, his voice raising a slight pitch in questioning.  
  
"Aye," she said, her own voice tainted with sadness. "Trevor, 'captain' of the Knights of the Cross at the churchly place in Havensword; overseeing surrounding areas. He makes himself seem so important when he is just a speck."  
  
Sydney nodded. "Probably milking something with Guildenstern," he muttered. "I take it this Trevor made advances on you, which you told him you would not desire?"  
  
"Of course, and since my family had been the first people to decide to put me in the church, he used that fat to keep putting more pressure form the higher powers on me for denying him, and started saying he could 'save' me from that fate. He knew I hated the place, but I would not take him."  
  
Sydney nodded. "Do you think he will be a problem?"  
  
She nodded. "Probably, whether I had gone or not. We'd best stay far clear of Havensword and away from places where the bloody knights would be found. He has a dispassion for the Mullenkamp followers, and if my memory serves, a rather large distaste for you."  
  
'All the more reason,' Sydney thought, his eyes brushing over the workers. "We can make it without touching most towns, and even then, Hardin and you can probably make it in and out of the smaller towns to pick up what we do need," he said. "SO, what do you wish to do around here? I also remembered you mentioning sewing - I'll have Hardin get what you need."  
  
"Aye, I can help with maintenance requiring sewing, and I have had to cook," she replied. "Nothing fancy of course, simple stews and such. And I will dance, as well, as needed."  
  
Sydney nodded, and pointed at a young auburn-haired woman. "Lydia there also dances, so you two might talk a bit as well," he said. "She's been around awhile, though she is not as fluid as you. Perhaps you can mentor her and such, and look after her. She's not a child, and quite mature all the same, but she . I don't know ho best to put it. Her mind sometimes wanders, and she's prone to forgetting things. We found her in a deserted town, and we discovered she was the sole survivor, so we attribute it to that. The town itself was ruins long before she was there, but Lydia. she was part of a wandering entertaining group, and they were attacked. She managed to hide and avoid their attackers but all others perished. She doesn't talk about it, but I know. I can hear it."  
  
She looked at him oddly a moment and then back to Lydia. "I see. I will try my best to keep her company," she said, watching the younger girl work on cutting some carrots. "I knew a woman like her in the church."  
  
"Mmm," Sydney hummed in reply, "and do keep it down about that shred of past. Some have strong - very strong - hatreds of anyone who has or had anything to do with the Iocus faith. People who have lost loved ones to their ruthless ways."  
  
She inclined her head. "I'll keep quiet," she said. "I wish to forget that chapter of my life as it is. It is dead."  
  
"Good," he said, watching Hardin work with some of the people. "Should you need anything, and I am unavailable, talk to Hardin. I trust him implicitly, and he will provide you." She nodded, watching them light fires as the night began to settle. "Other than that, if you have problems with anyone, bring them to me - or Hardin, but I'd prefer to know myself."  
  
"I understand," she said. "Shall I help finish preparations and meet with Lydia?"  
  
Sydney gestured outward. "I'll want to talk more another time," he said, smiling. "Try to enjoy yourself, and revel in your freedoms."  
  
She stood, curtseying and turned, walking into the gathering of people around where they were cooking, heading over to Lydia. She stopped a few feet away, watching the younger woman chopping deftly, skilled with the knife. In fact, it looked as though she had probably owned and forged that blade, and looked on in awe of her skill with it.  
  
Lydia looked up with large hazel eyes. "Oh, greetings Cat," she said, offering her a seat. "Have you come to help?"  
  
"Aye," she replied, taking the seat. "What should I do?"  
  
Lydia seemed to think awhile before picking up some potatoes and putting them on a hard wooden board, saying, "we need these broken up a bit, either by smashing them or by cutting them. They're not for a stew; they are for boiling and serving to the side. If you wish to mash them, we'll cook them, otherwise cut them up now. Here's a knife." She offered one straight from a sheath, holding it nimbly by the blade and smiling as Cat took it.  
  
"Thank you," she replied. "So how long have you been here?"  
  
"A few years," the younger replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before resuming working on a carrot. "So you dance, right? What kinds?"  
  
Cat started chopping the potatoes slowly and awkwardly. "Oh, I don't think I have a style," she replied. "I just move as I feel to the rhythm, though I have never danced to actual performed music. I was not allowed to in my family."  
  
"A shame," Lydia said, shaking her head. "It is one of the best modes of expression. And you've never used a dagger, have you, to cut?"  
  
Cat blushed slightly, and nodded. "No, I've not learned how to use one. I was only allowed to use blunt objects, as ordered-" Cat stopped suddenly, realizing what she was about to say.  
  
Lydia nodded solemnly. "I understand," she said in a low tone. "Don't worry, no one really listens into the ladies' talk, not even the other ladies. They're all so nice, usually. I've gotten in trouble a few times, but it's been okay."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Its ok about the dagger, you'll get used to it. Watch," Lydia said, taking one of the potatoes and showing Cattleya how to use it properly and chop efficiently.  
  
'I think I will get to like this place,' she thought, watching Lydia intently. Behind her at a distance, Sydney was watching them both and smiling.  
  
~-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-~  
  
Night was settled, and so were many of the cultists, including Lydia and her newfound friend Cat. On a far side of the camp were Hardin and Sydney, huddled around a small, dim fire. "So, Hardin, what do you think?"  
  
"Of what? Of Cattleya?" he inquired, poking the fire lightly with a dry stick. "What about her?"  
  
"What do you think of her addition," Sydney said, his right hand gesturing outwards to the sleeping people. "What do you think of her as a person?"  
  
"An odd question, Sydney," Hardin said, trying to study Sydney's expression. He continued, unable to tell what his friend was up to. "She's a nice person, and everyone seems to like her, especially Lydia. Her dancing seemed fairly good at the distance I was from."  
  
Sydney poked at a branch on the outside of the fire with a clawed hand. "A shame she could not dance tonight, but time did not allow," he said nonchalantly. "But you are right, she melds well with the others. And she is intelligent and sharp, with a very capable mind. Dare I say she could even work magicks."  
  
Hardin's brow furrowed slightly. "What are you thinking Sydney?"  
  
"I am thinking that we need more capable hands if we are to do this assault, among other things. We also need morale from places other than myself, Hardin. The people are restless and nervous."  
  
"It is more than that."  
  
"Anything more is not the business of the cult," Sydney said flatly, sending chills through Hardin.  
  
"I am sorry," he said, taken aback by Sydney's tone. " was not trying to pry, Sydney."  
  
Sydney sighed, shaking his head. "I know, Hardin. My mind is on things to come and things that are. And the truth be told, Hardin, I am partly taken with her. However, she has. had a rough past in that respect. Hurt by forced love she rejected, which made misery of her life. I cannot and will not force myself into her life if she does not wish that." Sydney leaned back, bare flesh on his back meeting cold stone, but he was unfazed. "It isn't that long 'til we are in the Greylands, is it?"  
  
Hardin took note f the subject change, but did not press on it. "Aye, only a matter of weeks, if that."  
  
"We should do fine. I am not worried, but I would like to keep the confidence of our followers. That's the reasoning for Cat, aside the other bonuses included. I will see what she thinks of the subject of magic tomorrow, and we shall go from there. Anything I should know among the people?"  
  
Hardin shook his head. "No, nothing's amiss at all, everyone seems pretty happy tonight. I think Cattleya has brought something to the people already, or at least spirits are up for any reason."  
  
Sydney nodded, closing his eyes. "Good. You should turn in, my good man, we have another long day tomorrow passing by Havensword, and finding another town to pick up supplies from - or at least a remote farm."  
  
Hardin rose silently, looking at Sydney a moment before retreating t the comforts of bed and leaving Sydney alone. Sydney glanced up through the leaves to the night sky, spying a star far off. 'Only time can tell hat will become of us. and what shall be once we reach the Greylands and the manor.'  
  
~-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-~  
  
Author Note: Yeah, I know, someone's bound to kill me for this, but hear me out before you decide to have my name put on a hit list, eh? Stay tuned for more later! //Updates may be sporadic depending on time and mood, and ambitions.//  
  
And yes, Cattleya = a sigil in VS. I KNOW that. XD 


End file.
